


uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

by HeavyMetalMothman



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Cold War, Diplomacy, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Political tension, Royalty, Tags May Change, There's more - Freeform, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but that's later, but wait, dictatorships (it fails), for the sake of the plot, i'm just listing words, russian spies, thats right. a happy ending from spence. rarer than a double rainbow on a lucky day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21569371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavyMetalMothman/pseuds/HeavyMetalMothman
Summary: It's a three part story.A story about boy raised in secrecy, hidden from the wicked world with only the company of his childhood friend as grows. A story about struggling young man dealing with the disappearance of his closest companion and the revelation that he is the successor to a throne since swallowed whole by a vicious dictatorship. A story of a grieving king seemingly betrayed and protected by his enemy, a king who must make a difficult choice regarding his country.It's also a love story.---Ryan is the crown prince of a country subdued by political turmoil and vicious coup-turned dictatorship, Shane is his childhood friend.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	1. Prologue - A Coup

**Author's Note:**

> _Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose_   
_To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude,_   
_And in the calmest and most stillest night,_   
_With all appliances and means to boot,_   
_Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down!_   
_Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”_

They knew their time had run out. 

The night air sat just a little  _ too  _ still, the table was set just a little  _ too  _ perfect. The energy conducted through the palace was stifling and rigid. 

Yet everything was exactly as it should have been, everyone in their place. Not a sound outside the quiet and dignified clink of dishes and silverware could be heard. 

The queen looked to her husband for some understanding; perhaps she was just anxious for the rumors that were beginning to catch up to them. Rumors of a coup, rumors of dissatisfaction and insurgency in the hierarchy. 

The husband looked back with the same anxiety, and the Queen knew. All was well until it wasn’t. 

Abruptly, she stood and announced her retirement from the evening’s festivities. Startled faces looked up at her as she stepped away, her dinner hardly touched. Her husband stood, excused himself, and followed her out of the extravagant room. 

Forgiveness could be begged later, though it was not the greatest sign of a healthy mind that the monarch should suddenly startle, and without good reason. 

But she knew, she knew something wasn’t right that evening. The tug in her gut screamed for her to run. For all her careful planning and quiet investigation, she knew time had caught up. Betrayal followed her and her husband through halls of her home with death close behind. 

She had never been a paranoid woman, but she would be damned before she didn’t listen to her intuition. She was damned nonetheless.

She went straight to the nursery where her only son slept in his crib, unknowing and innocent. The child knew nothing of the burden he was bound to carry, sleeping soundly without a care in the wicked world. 

“What if we’re wrong?” Her husband asked. It was more of a hopeful inquiry, but he knew the truth. 

“I-” The queen began, but for once, she stuttered. “I know what's to come. I know of the plans. It’s too late to stop it now. But I’ve made arrangements, I’ve done the best that I can.” 

Though secretive, her husband knew she was a clever woman. And if he valued his life, he was to listen closely. 

“You’ll take him to the states, there is an estate there for you to live. There is enough money to sustain you both for many years. Speak to the ambassador, and he will offer you a job. I want our son to be educated, but open minded. His contact with the world should remain limited until a few years should pass. And under no circumstances is he to know who he truly is until he comes of age, or until something should change.” 

Her face was grave as she spoke, her voice was only a whisper. She passed a thick, leather bound document to her husband, who took it with shaky hands. It was the last thing she would give him, besides the final kiss she placed upon his lips. 

“Take care of him. Cherish him. He might be the last thing left of us.” She felt the heartbreak deep in her chest, letting go of her child and her love. “Go now. A vehicle will be waiting for you. And don’t you even think of looking back.” 

No sooner than the husband had been disguised did he get into the vehicle waiting at the back of the palace. The baby laid in a lidded basket with the document beneath him, still sound asleep. 

He was careful not to jostle the basket, should the baby wake up and alert the whole palace with his melodic crying. He did exactly as he was told, never once looking back. 

The queen watched from the window of their bedroom, the tail lights disappearing past the gates of the palace. She remained calm, even when the bedroom door opened unannounced. She watched the reflection from the window as figure entered the room. 

“Who is bothering me at this hour?” She inquired, not turning to see who the figure was. 

“Where is the prince and the heir apparent?” A man’s voice asked with an icy tone, and a chill went down the queen’s spine. 

“It would seem, dear advisor, that they’ve gone away.”

The advisor seemed taken aback that she knew of his treachery, but he doubled down and repeated himself. 

“I can’t say for sure,” She said, a single tear falling down her cheek. The piece in her hand was heavy, but the crown that had been placed on her head so many years ago had been heavier. “Surely, it’s better than here.”

“I won’t ask again, where are they?!” The advisor practically shouted at the queen. 

She moved suddenly, firing at the advisor and catching him in the eye. He fell to the floor with a thud. “I do hope the silver you sold me for was worth it, Judas to the crown.” She hissed. 

She turned with distaste away from the man bleeding onto to her carpet and back to the window. Others would be coming soon. 

“My darlings… my loves. I’m so sorry things ended this way. You know that I love you. Make a new life for yourself. Make the best of your opportunities.”

Another tear slipped down her cheek as she placed the piece under her jaw. 

“Godspeed, my loves.”


	2. Part I - Childhood (Everyday, it's a gettin' closer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan grows up in a house of secrets. A house of light treading, house of strict structure. When he meets his best friend, life's color gets a little brighter. They grow up together, grow closer together, and soon realize what they mean to each other. 
> 
> (AKA, it's a wholesome chapter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Everyday, it's a gettin' closer,_   
_goin' faster than a roller coaster,_   
_love like yours will surely come my way, (hey, hey, hey)_   
_everyday, it's a gettin' faster,_   
_everyone says go ahead and ask her,_   
_love like yours will surely come my way, (hey, hey, hey)_   
_Everyday seems a little longer,_   
_every way, love's a little stronger,_   
_come what may, do you ever long for_   
_true love from me?_

Ryan quite enjoyed playing outside, especially on a sunny spring day such as that one. He did cartwheels and run around the large yard, doing whatever his imagination carried him to do next. 

He didn’t feel stifled like he did inside. He was tired of reading books, tired of memorizing and reciting, tired of writing and practicing. It was so very boring, it was a wonder he didn’t fall asleep during lessons.

He didn’t understand, but he did as he was told, most of the time, anyway.

The sun was warm on his button down shirt and shorts. He giggled as he ran around through the front yard of the house, pulling a kite behind him as he ran. There was hardly any wind, but he made his own, sprinting about. 

After a while, the kite lost its charm and he grew bored, wandering the edge of the estate with his fingers dragging along the bars of the wrought iron fence, string of his kite clutched in his other fist. He watched with fascination as little creatures scurried away from his feet and disappeared amongst the grass and bushes. 

His keen ears picked up the sound of laughing and talking, Ryan quickly ran to see what was happening. 

On the driveway of another house, a group of children played, jumping rope and chanting, until one player missed and switched with another child. 

Ryan had seen them before from his bedroom window before. 

He wanted to play with the other children, they looked like they were having _ fun _. Fun, the arch nemesis of his bringing up it seemed.

He felt alienated, his father having forbid him from leaving the estate unaccompanied. “It’s dangerous.” He’d said. Ryan couldn’t begin to fathom what outside the gates was dangerous; the sun was shining, the grass was green. It was warm but not blisteringly so, and it seemed that it was safe enough for the other children to play.

He watched from the front gate, envious of their merry-making. What could be so wrong with going out there? He wondered. There was a world to be explored, people to meet. Dusty and dense history volumes could only take him so far across the globe.

All at once, he made a decision for himself. 

With little thought to consequence, he reached up and unlatched the gate, slipping between the bars and pulling it shut again. 

Nervously, he wandered closer to the kids playing, just watching and enjoying. No one noticed him, too engrossed in the game of jump rope they were playing. 

A tall, wild haired boy was at the center of the swinging ropes, jumping with ease and precision, chanting with the other kids in time with their rhyming. 

“Down by the river, down by the sea, Johnny broke a bottle and blamed it on me. I told ma, ma told pa, Johnny got a spanking so _ ha ha ha _ . How many spankings did Johnny get? One, two, three, four, five… _ ” _ He barely counted, focusing on the rope clearing his feet until he got tangled at 42. 

“Ew, that’s so many.” One curly haired girl recoiled at the number. 

“Bet you can’t beat it!” The tall boy challenged as he stepped off the rope, a fox like smirk adorning his face. He had hazel eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. He was skinny, but much taller than the other kids. 

“I could beat that in my sleep!” The curly haired girl said, pushing a pair of horn rimmed glasses up on her face. 

“Prove it then, Sara. So we know you’re not a liar.” The boy quirked his eyebrows, challenging her. 

Ryan itched to try it, itched to see what it was like. His fingertips tingled at the thought of touching the coarse rope, hearing it whistle past his ears. He wondered how high he could count before he messed up. 

He didn’t think to stop himself, the words just bubbled out of his mouth. 

“May I try?”

All at once, the children noticed the newcomer, looking at him with a mixture of blankness, and confusion. 

“That’s the kid that lives in the red brick house.” One kid whispered to another. 

“I’ve never seen him outside the gates before.”

The tall boy was the first to break the awkward spell. He smiled and waved him over, Sara moved graciously out of the way so he could try it. “Have you ever done this before?” He asked. 

Ryan shook his head, taking a timid step closer. 

“It’s easy. Just jump the rope before it hits you on the leg. If it hits you, you’re out, and it’s the next person's turn.” He took one end of the rope from another kid. “Just stand in the middle, right there.”

Ryan did as he was instructed, though he failed to jump in time the first few tries, the rope hitting his shin with a soft _ thwop. _ It was more difficult than he anticipated, he wanted to slink away and pretend he’d never left the gates. 

“You’re jumping too late,” The tall boy said. “You have to jump before the rope comes down to the ground, otherwise you’ll miss it. Here, jump when I say jump. That way, you can understand the rhythm.”

Ryan nodded and waited for the rope to come back around. 

“Jump!” 

He jumped. The rope cleared his feet before coming back around. 

“Jump!”

Soon enough he had a steady pattern going, jumping smoothly. And _oh,_ _wasn’t that fun?_ he thought. It was like balancing in a magic bubble of his own making. He smiled as cleared the rope, the timing being not much different from the slow tick of a metronome.

“Don’t worry about the words, just focus on jumping.” The boy said. “Down by the river, down by the sea, Johnny broke a bottle and blamed it on me…” He started. 

Ryan made it all the way to twelve before a stern voice startled all the children, effectively ending the game.

“Ryan!” 

He looked up and saw his father glaring angrily at him. Ryan immediately stepped away and went to him, face growing red with shame as he whispered his most sincere apology to the other kids. His father didn’t say a word as he walked passed, staring at the other kids for a moment before closing the gate behind him. 

“What did I say about playing outside the gate?” His father snapped when they had reached the foyer of the house, completely furious, anger glowing in his eyes.

“That it’s dangerous.” Ryan huffed. He’d really never been angry with his father, but right then and there, he was. It wasn’t an emotion he cared for, it was foreign and unpredictable. 

“But you decided not to listen to me.” 

Ryan shook his head, staring at the ground. His dad’s well-polished shoes glowed in the evening sun breaching through the windows. 

“Do you know how I would feel if something happened to you? If you got hurt? What if a car had hit you? What if someone had taken off with you?” The fury in his father’s voice rose, but it just made Ryan more frustrated. “I hadn’t even known where you’d gone. I was considering calling the police.”

If that wasn’t the overreaction of the century to Ryan, he didn't know what was. If it was so dangerous outside, why were the other children allowed to play? All he knew was that the other kids were allowed to play while he had to stay inside, and it wasn’t _ fair _.

“They were having fun!” Ryan shouted, his voice shrill and full of unshed tears. He sniffed and looked up. “I saw them having fun, and I wanted to try playing jump rope too. They’re all friends, and I don’t have any friends, and it’s boring! All I do is stay up in my room and play alone, or read, and I’m bored. I just wanted to be friends with them. Even the characters in my books have friends.” 

Something changed in his father’s face, he still looked angry, but sad. He sighed and allowed his hands to unfold and rest at his side. 

“I lost your mother. And I’m afraid to lose you too. I say this now but even still, you’re too young to understand how _ important _ you are. It doesn’t seem like it, but people exist, and they live specifically to do you and I harm… simply because we continue to exist.” He turned and walked further into the house.

“Come along, this is an inappropriate place to talk.”

Ryan followed his father, head hanging in defeat. It seemed he wasn’t going to get what he wanted, and that made him more sad than anything.

\---

Days went by, Ryan was “grounded” for a short while (no radio after supper, straight to bed at 8:30 sharp, so on and so forth). He was pretty sure his father had told his tutor to give him some extra calligraphy work that day, his hand was slightly sore from writing so much. 

He was finally allowed to go outside by himself again, albeit, he was to stay away from the gate. He looked at it from a distance and scowled before turning back to his book about plants. It was dry and not savory, detailing the many species of plants in a particular section of North America. 

Ryan was bored. He turned the page, unphased by the detailings of leaves and blossoms. A book about animals would have been far more riveting, or even a novel of some sort, but there he sat, doing his ‘homework’ like a good boy. 

A quiet _ psst _caught his attention, he glanced in front of him, but upon seeing nothing he decided it was nothing and went back to his book. He was midway through a paragraph about the day time behavior of a particular species of honeysuckle when he heard it again, followed by pebble hitting him in the head. 

He looked up, rubbing the back of his head. Up in the tree sat the tall boy from a few days prior, swinging his dangling legs back and forth with the same impish grin on his face. 

“Come out and play.” He said, stalling his swinging. 

“I can’t.” Ryan huffed. “What are you even doing up there, aren’t you afraid of falling?”

“Nope!” The boy said proudly, before swinging one leg over the side of the tree. He nimbly menuevered himself so he could drop down gracefully, dangling for a moment before letting go of the branch and landing on the ground with an _ oof. _

He dusted the dirt off his hands and stuck his right hand out. “I’m Shane, by the way. Shane Madej. I live next door.” 

Ryan didn’t take it, he just looked at Shane with some apprehension. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“For being friendly?” Shane’s eyebrow flew up. 

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” 

“Well I guess you shouldn’t jump rope with them either, huh?” Shane looked pretty satisfied with himself, Ryan just frowned. 

“I was acting impulsively, and I shouldn’t have left the gates.” He said, barely having an understanding of what that word meant.

“First of all, that’s a big word for a ten year old, and secondly why would I get you in trouble?” 

“My father says I’m not supposed to leave the gates, and I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. I don’t leave the gates unless I’m with the butler, the tutor, or with my father. Or else I could _ die. _” He said the last word with some melodrama, widening his eyes. 

“Well, okay then. What do I have to do to be your friend, then? Because I kind of like you, and you seem swell.”

Ryan sighed and closed his book. It would be _ so nice _ to have a friend, just someone who wasn’t an adult to talk to. He was pretty sure the butler tuned his ramblings out most of the time, and his tutor only had patience for answers to questions he’d asked of young Ryan.

What would be the problem in trying? The worst his father could say was “no”.

“You have to announce your visit, write a letter to my dad and state your intentions. And then you have to go to the house, and you have to wear a fancy suit, and sit in the office room which smells like cigars, you have to tell my father about yourself. And then he’ll decide if you’re good enough to talk to me, but I guess people usually aren’t. I’ve had a lot of tutors.”

Shane blinked, processing everything, nodding.

“I don’t have a suit but I have a really nice sweater that I wear to church on sundays.” 

“I suppose that could work, but I don’t know what my father would say.” Ryan looked back at the house. His father would come looking for him soon, and he didn’t want to get in trouble all over again. “I have to go back inside soon.” 

He stood up, dusting himself off. He tucked his book under his left arm and held out his right hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Shane. Maybe my father will let us play together.”

Shane shook his hand and nodded, clearly pleased. 

“I look forward to writing a very formal letter and having a conversation in a room that smells like cigars while I wear my best sweater.”

\---

Write a letter, he did. By hand and in his best cursive, which wasn’t all that good to begin with. 

And that’s how Shane found himself in a room directly across from a very intimidating man, with a cold studying gaze, and hair that had just begun to grey despite him still being somewhat youthful. It did indeed smell like cigars, and the peculiar but familiar musk that large old houses have. 

Ryan’s father sat reclined in a leather chair, staring at Shane. Shane stared right back at him, with wide, curious eyes. 

Neither of them spoke, waiting for the other to speak first. 

Shane wanted to tug at the collar of his sweater, he really hated wearing it. But if he got to be friends with the kid from the red brick house? So be it, he’d wear the silly sweater. 

Honestly it was more of a mansion, with a roundabout driveway, a butler, and a huge grand entrance. Ryan looked tiny compared to everything, he’d watched with serious eyes as Shane was ushered into the house. 

Shane was also pretty sure Ryan was eavesdropping from just behind the door. 

“So you want to become acquainted with my son?” Ryan’s father finally spoke. 

“Very much so, yes.” Shane replied, keeping his back as straight as possible, trying to sound polite as possible. 

“Why?” 

It was apparent to neither Shane nor Ryan that Ryan’s father was humoring them, and being just a smidge intimidating for the fun of it. He’d seen them conversing outside, he’d watched when Shane showed Ryan how to play jump rope, being inclusive and making his son feel _ welcomed and wanted. _

Of course he wanted his son to have a friend, he didn’t want his son to grow up stifled. 

But a car slowly creeping up the road got the best of his nerves and he’d remembered the real dangers around them. He knew logistically it had just been a motorist going on his merry way, but it didn’t stop the nightmares from flashing before his eyes, visions of seeing his only son laying dead in the street.

Shane took a deep breath. “Well, you see. Sometimes me and the other neighborhood kids see Ryan in the yard, or when you leave the house. And we always wondered why he never came outside to play with us. See, there’s six of us; Sara, Tj, Kelsey, Justin, Brent, and me, that’s six. But mostly, I just think he seems like someone I’d like to be friends with.”

“What do you do for fun, Shane?” He straightened a pen on his desk before looking back at Shane. 

“I like to read, I like to explore. I like building things and writing stories. I have a kodak camera that I got for christmas last year, so sometimes I take pictures. I can double dutch faster than Sara, but I’m not very good at hide and seek because I’m tall. I just learned how to build a paper boat from a book, and sometimes me and Keith will race them at the park’s stream.”

Ryan’s father tried not to chuckled at the child before him. He had a cowlick he’d obviously tried to tame, and he was clearly not comfortable in the sweater he was wearing. He caught a small movement at the crack of the door, and knew Ryan was eavesdropping. 

“What kind of grades do you earn in school, young man?” 

Shane didn’t look like a trouble maker, but Ryan’s father would not have someone influencing him to turn down hard work in favor of frolicking. He was far above other students in terms of academic advancement, his father made sure he received only the best education.

“I’ve earned all A’s as of last semester, and I’m first in several of my classes. My mom says I might be able to skip a grade if I keep working hard.”

He nodded. Though Shane might very well be telling him what he wanted to hear. He’d already done his research on the families in the area; Shane’s father was a CFO at an affluent insurance business and his mother stayed at home with her two sons. 

“Very good, then. I will allow you to spend time with my son, but hear this: My son will always come first. He comes from a long line of powerful men, and I will not allow his potential to squandered. If you become a distraction, I will have you removed. Am I clear on that matter?” 

He beared down on Shane, he knew he was being harsh, but his son always would come first. He couldn’t quite tell the boy he was treading in the presence of royalty, but his intentions for Ryan would be absolutely crystal clear.

Shane swallowed and nodded. “I understand.” 

“Very well. His free time is from 2-5 every afternoon, and on Saturdays. You have my permission to come and go from the gates, do announce yourself to the butler so he can retrieve Ryan for you. If you leave the property with Ryan, the butler will go with you to watch over him. I don’t want him in any position where he could be hurt or that would make him look unseemly, no tree climbing, no running in the street, no stunting around.”

“Of course. Everybody says you’re a very important government person. I won’t make any trouble for Ryan or you.”

“Very good.” He stood and watched as Shane got up from his own chair, opening the door for him and allowing him to exit first. Ryan was pretending he’d been waiting patiently by the banister for them, looking up at his father with searching eyes when they exited the office. 

“You may play together during your free time, but the minute I hear of any rambunctious activities, I’ll be separating you two.” 

The boys said their thank you’s. He watched the two of them delightedly scurry away, and sighed. It was difficult, trying to raise a child to be a king and a leader, whilst still maintaining such an enormous secret. He still new nothing, other than he was born outside America, and that his mother had died shortly after his birth. 

Barely in his 40’s, and his hair was already greying from the stress, trying to raise a child to be a prince, trying to help pull his dying country from the snares of a dictatorship from a land he did not belong to, and trying to serve the United States’ needs. 

He was spread thin, and felt he had very little to show for it.

But this was good. This would lead to character building. It would lead to influence, and choices. His son choosing what kind of people to spend his time with, and how he treated them. While Ryan didn’t talk with many people, his father was certain he’d raised him to be a quiet, polite, and dignified boy.

With some grace, he might turn out alright. 

\---

Shane and Ryan grew to be exceptional friends, Shane spending all the time he could with Ryan. 

He was a fascinating, sweet, and dare he say dorky boy. He wore round horn framed glasses when he was reading, could memorise lengthy passages from books, and could play the piano better than most of the adults he knew. 

They were far from making trouble, though they had their rambunctious moments. Giggling as they played harmless pranks on the butler, play fought in the yard with sticks, and made general, good natured fun. 

Ryan taught Shane the second parts to some easier piano pieces, and Shane showed him how to develop photos from his camera. They made wonderful games together, the joy never seemed to cease.

They grew, as all boys do. Shane shot up towards the sky with height, Ryan remained shorter, but began to fill out. 

Their interests changed as they grew, Shane’s sights set on hollywood motion pictures and starlets, and Ryan’s interests followed suit. They taken up daytime cinema as one of their favorite activities, squabbling over story lines, casting choice, plot holes, and potential cinema ideas. 

They sat in a fancy diner after one such movie, arguing about whether or not the main actress could actually act. 

“That’s ridiculous, she hasn’t even had the proper training. They should have gone with another actress.” Ryan stirred at his shake, just grateful to be out and about without the butler hanging over his shoulder all the time. 

“Just because someone hasn’t gone to school for it, doesn’t mean they can’t act. For example, you act like a sissy all the time.” Shane said, his trademark smug expression plastered on his face. 

“I beg your pardon!” Ryan was gleefully shocked, opening his mouth in surprise. “I’m going to tell my father you said that.” He giggled even as he said it, knowing full well it was as empty as a threat could get.

“_ I’m going to tell my father, _” Shane mimicked in a high pitched mockery of Ryan’s voice. “If he didn’t tell me to get lost after you fell out of the tree while climbing it, then I don’t think he’s going to do anything this time.”

“You’ll see. I’ll tell on you. And then you’ll be in so much trouble.” Ryan ate the whipped cream off of his spoon, raising an eyebrow smuggly. 

“I’m not afraid of your dad. Besides, you know what they say about people who tell on other people, right?”

“What’s that?” Ryan asked, licking the back of the spoon. 

“That snitches get stitches!” Shane said, and kicked Ryan in the meat of his leg under the table. 

“Ow!” Ryan hissed in pain and moved his leg. “That was cheap.”

“You fell for it.” Shane finally got back to his own shake, which had begun to melt towards the bottom. “Why do you call your dad ‘father’ anyway? You sound like the career boys in my classes.”

“Because it’s the formal way to address your parents. But I don’t call him that all the time, I say ‘father’ when I greet him, and then after that it’s ‘sir’, until he leaves and then I call him ‘father’ again. It’s the same thing with the butler, he calls me ‘Master Ryan’ and then after that it’s ‘sir’ or ‘young sir’ if he’s sassing me.”

“That’s a lot of protocol. I just call my dad ‘dad’, that’s what I’ve always called him. I only say ‘sir’ if he’s mad. Why does the butler call you ‘Master Ryan’, that’s weird.”

Ryan paused, looking at the grooves of the seat. “I don’t know.” He said, like the answer was on the tip of his tongue, it just wasn’t coming to him. “Probably because he calls my father ‘Master Bergara’, but if he called me ‘Master Bergera’, it’d get really confusing.”

“Hm. Well, it’s weird, Master _ Dork-gara, _ and I _ shan’t _ be calling you that. Do you want to go to the bookshop after this? I wanted to see if there are any new mystery novels.”

“Sure thing, let me finish first.” Ryan snorted at his joke and went back to his treat, and Shane couldn’t help but watch him. He was so defined in everything he did, from the way he handled his spoon to the way he glanced out the window, watching automobiles and pedestrians pass. Grace and poise were in every one of his features and movements, and he envied it.

He felt odd, like he was seeing his friend, but he wasn’t quite reachable. Ryan just seemed better than him, better at anything he did. He’d since taken up fencing as a sport, and was already a natural at it. Shane had tried out for football, and as much as he didn’t fancy sports, he had to admit he was slightly devastated that he hadn’t made the cut.

Shane envied him, so much. Yet he couldn’t have enough of him, he couldn’t spend enough time with him, he couldn’t bask long enough in Ryan’s friendly glow. He couldn’t sink enough of his friends personality into his own so that he would end up half as perfect as Ryan.

So he ragged on him constantly, knowing Ryan would rib him right back.

His school friends were all busy crushing on girls and stealing kisses in private, and all Shane wanted to do was spend every last second with Ryan. He hardly understood the butterflies in his stomach when he looked at Ryan, he just knew it was a good kind of sick. The kind of sick that lingered and made his face feel warm. Ryan was a jewel, and Shane coveted him the most.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Shane snapped out of his trance.

“You were just staring at me with a stupid smile.” Ryan teased, nudging his foot. 

“No I wasn’t.” Shane deflected looking away. He could feel his cheeks turning red. 

“You absolutely were, you liar!” Ryan nudged his foot again, harder.

“So? I was thinking about a- a girl!” Shane regretted it as soon as he said it. Not only because it was a lie, but it came with a certain kind of clarity. Ryan straightened up and leaned forward. 

“A girl? How come you didn’t tell me about her sooner?” He seemed sad that his friend was keeping secrets from him, imaginary as they may be. 

“Because it’s kind of new, I wasn’t even sure if I liked her until a moment ago.” 

“Oh. What is she like?” Ryan asked before taking another sip of his milkshake. 

“She’s got dark hair and brown eyes. I like it when she laughs, because she makes me laugh too. She’s kind of dorky, but she’s into sports too. I don’t know her very well, though.” Shane lied some more, while spilling some truth to the matter. 

“Is it Sara? I heard from Keith that she’s had a crush on you since kindergarten.” He finished off the last of his shake before pushing the empty glass to the side. 

“No, it’s not Sara. And Sara likes Andrew from school. Don’t be silly.” Shane went back to his milkshake, trying to catch up so they could go to the book shop. 

“Well, I hope she likes you back. Because otherwise she’d be pretty stupid not to.” 

Shane almost coughed on his milkshake, looking up at Ryan and shock. Ryan never talked so bluntly about other people, especially in a negative manner. “Oh my god, Ryan!” 

“It’s true!” Ryan said, laughing with Shane. 

“Let’s go.” Shane said, leaving some coins on the counter for the waitress. Ryan giggled as he scooted out of his booth seat, following Shane out the door. 

They wandered together to the bookshop, with Shane on his right side, protecting him from the street. Danger was a far cry, but he took Ryan’s safety as seriously as he could, even when they were up to early teenaged shenanigans. 

He pulled the shop door open for Ryan, the bell twinkling to signal their arrival. The shopkeeper knew them well, greeting them as they wandered in. 

“Do you have any new mystery novels?” Shane wandered straight the counter, Ryan following him until he got distracted by the new record bins. 

“Nothing new, Mr. Madej. But I do have a recommendation, if you’re keen on hearing it.” 

“Of course.” Shane followed the shopkeep to the fiction section, listening to his recommendation, while also sparing glances at Ryan as he listened. 

Ryan filtered through the records with deft fingers until he found one that looked intriguing, plucking it from the bin with precision. It was a jazz album, one of Ryan’s favorite genres, but not his most favorite. Ryan liked to dance on occasion, so he’d started a small collection of LP’s, most of which he and Shane listened to while they caught up on studying. 

Not satisfied, Ryan put the record back and continued to look through the bins. 

Shane had only half an understanding of the true crime novel in his hand, but he carried it with him nonetheless and rejoined Ryan. 

“Do you want to get a comic book?” Shane asked as he watched Ryan shuffle through the bins. He pulled out another record, seeming a little bit more interested in that one than the last. 

“My father doesn’t want me reading comic books. He said I was pushing it with the mystery novels already.” Ryan didn’t sound too enthusiastic, and Shane wasn’t surprised. 

“Suit yourself.” Shane walked around him to look at the other bin. “I’ll let you borrow mine tomorrow.” He whispered, and Ryan smiled to himself. 

“I think I’ll get this one.” He held up the album, satisfied with his find. 

“Buddy Holly? Isn’t that a bit rock n roll for your dad’s taste?” 

“It is, isn’t it?” Ryan sighed, wrinkling his nose a bit. He tapped his finger on the other LPs, thinking of what to do. 

“You can keep it at my house, I’ll hide it with your other records.” Shane offered. 

“Will you?” Ryan looked up at him hopefully. “You already hide so much stuff for me, sometimes I feel bad.”

“It’ll be alright, besides. My mom doesn’t mind me listening to it. She just thinks they’re my records.” 

“Thank you, Shane.” Ryan smiled at him, and Shane’s heart melted at his warm brown eyes and soft smile. “You’ll probably be the best friend I’ll ever have.”

Shane hoped to god that sentiment would stay true forever. 

\---

“I’ve got to show you something.” Ryan told Shane one fine fall afternoon. His eyes sparkled with wonder, and just a hint of mischievousness. 

Shane carried a book in his hand, with a comic issue not so tactfully concealed inside the worn pages. 

“What is it?” Shane followed him through the halls of the large house, walking as gently as possible. Though he lived in a large house himself, this house was old. Each step could be felt through the groan of the wood, every whisper echoed off the papered walls. 

“Shh, you have to wait and see.” Ryan said, leading Shane to the grand piano that sat in one of the parlours. Ryan’s father called it the reading room, but between Ryan and Shane, reading hardly ever happened. “I haven’t practiced today, so you’ll have to wait until I’ve finished.”

Shane wouldn’t admit it, but listening Ryan play was one of his favorite things to do. Ryan playing was mesmerizing, he looked like a young master pouring every bit of his heart and soul into playing. 

“Can I pick the song?”

Ryan glanced at him for a moment like he was surprised by Shane’s request, but nodded nonetheless.

“Of course, what would you like me to play?”

Shane was the only one he willingly played for, the only one he really practiced for. Otherwise it was just unnecessary work. He couldn’t quite describe it, it was like the emotion he was supposed to feel from each piece was brought to life in Shane’s presence. 

“Uh… Mozart. Sonata No. 8 in A Minor. That one’s my favorite, it always makes me think of when we played outside when we were younger.”

“Alright, but I’m not playing the whole thing. It’s too long.” 

Ryan turned back to the piano, pausing for a moment. Shane never understood why people did that, stare at the piano just before playing it. But all at once Ryan started playing, as if the keys would get away from him if he wasn’t fast enough.

The piece started quiet, as most Mozart pieces did, swelling as the melody carried itself along. Ryan swayed too, letting it carry him. Shane just listened to the tune, stepping off the bench and going to the window to watch outside. 

The tune carried mischief with the bigger theme of good, lively fun. 

He could remember, the running around, the sword fights consisting of hitting sticks until the sticks broke. Ryan declared himself to Mercutio, Shane would double down as Tybalt, advancing upon him until he could pretend to stab him under the arm. 

“A plague upon both your houses!” He’d howl, collapsing to the ground. “Ask for me tomorrow, Shane, and you shall find me a grave man. For I will have died of boredom!”

Shane would poke his nose with the stick until he’d giggle and get up, dusting off his shorts and shirt.

Shane smiled at the memory, watching absentmindedly as a black car drove slowly up the drive.

The butler closed the gate behind it and following it up the drive. Ryan’s father went up to the man that got out of the car to greet him, the man bowing at the neck reverently before Ryan’s father and then embracing him. 

“Ryan, someone’s here…” He turned but trailed off, seeing Ryan’s expression as he played. The furrowed brow of concentration, and the deeper subconscious serenity, like he was remembering a pleasant time. He was in his own little world, wrapped up in the melody.

The melody took a heavier turn, growing louder as Ryan applied more force, moving further down the scale. Shane could hear the footsteps, almost feel them through the floor as they got closer. Each footfall brought anxiety.

He saw the door open, but still startled him, as did Ryan, who missed several keys and ended the tune abruptly as he turned to look at the two men before them. 

“I apologize for the interruption, but Ryan, there’s someone very important I’d like you to meet.” His father’s voice carried clear as water through the room, Ryan slid from the bench and dutifully made his way to were the two men stood. 

The newcomer was shorter than Ryan’s father, though he looked slightly older and bore an uncanny resemblance to Ryan. He smiled softly, even with his eyes, there was kindness in the warm brown pupils. 

“Nice to meet you.” Ryan said, timidness still causing his voice to shake, if only a small amount. 

Ryan held out his hand to shake, the man took it and instead bowed, holding the hand just in front of his forehead for a moment before releasing it and straightening his back again. He gazed upon Ryan like he was remembering something from a long time ago.

“I don’t suppose you remember do you? You weren’t even a year old.” 

“No… I’m sorry.” Ryan looked confused, nervous from the odd gesture, waiting for the newcomer or his father to explain. Shane stood in the background, feeling unimportant and slightly ignored, much like the flowers on the wallpaper. 

“Ryan, this is Edward, your uncle. I’ve asked him to come and help tutor you going forward. You’ll still receive regular instruction from your current tutor, but Edward will provide extra tutoring. We’ll sit down and have a proper talk tomorrow, but the short of it is that I’d like for you to start socializing with other diplomats, ambassadors, lawmakers and of course their sons as well. People you will be interacting with frequently as you get older.”

Ryan looked at his uncle, and back to his father, clearly not pleased with new developments. It meant less time, and more work. More hard work, more dry reading, more practicing speaking and writing. He wasn’t even sure diplomacy was something he wanted to delve into, it was just something he’d always known in his father’s house.

He thought of Shane, whom he knew was standing not ten feet behind him, too intimidated to come closer. When was he supposed to make time for his friend? What would happen to their cinema outings? Their trips to the bookshop? The afternoons they spent listening to rock and roll and blues albums as Ryan poured over Shane’s comic book collection? 

What was to happen to them?

Ryan nodded and bowed his head in turn. “I look forward to receiving your instruction, Uncle Edward.” He looked back at Shane and then turned back to his father. “I’ll still be able to see Shane, right?”

“This will take up some of your spare time, but Shane is welcome to come by, even be present for your uncle’s lessons if he’d like. He just might make socialites of you both.” His father chuckled, but Ryan and Shane just glanced at each other. “Edward and I have business to discuss, and then supper will be at five sharp, do _ not _ be late.” 

Ryan’s father looked at him knowingly. Ryan was known for a lot of things, but not for astounding punctuality.

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Uncle Edward.” 

The Uncle bowed once more before taking his leave along with Ryan’s father. The two boys watched them leave before turning back to each other. 

“I’m not bowing when I see you tomorrow.” Shane teased as Ryan went to close the cover on the piano. 

“Oh, shut up. I don’t even know what that was about. Come on, it’s almost four.” Ryan grabbed Shane’s hand and tugged him along, pulled him up the stairs to the final landing, and down the hall. 

At the end of the hall was a door, which revealed another set of stairs, older and dusty. A window cast golden light through a dusty window pane, illuminating the steps as they ascended. Ryan pulled him up the stairs, pulling the door closed behind them.

“We’re not supposed to be up here, so hush.” He whispered, putting a finger to his lips. 

Quietly, they tiptoed up the creaky steps and into the attic. It was sparse for a house of that size, housing some old furniture and a few shelves. Ryan lead him to a chest, dusty, though it was clear that recent hands had left prints in their wake. 

Inside the chest were various boxes, books. Ryan lifted a small photo album and sat down on the floor, Shane slinking down next to him to look. 

“I found these a while ago, I was looking for a book I read when I was little. I didn’t find the book, but this was more interesting.”

He flipped the album open to reveal photographs, smiling serene faces, stony expressions, babies with blank unknowing faces. Most of the photos had faded with age. Some were staged, some seemed to have been taken with a personal camera. Men and women sat in the regalia of high-standing military officials, fine custom suits and gowns laden with jewelry and medals.

“I think… this is my family. Wherever we came from, somewhere in Europe. My father won't tell me much, except that we were important. He says we’re still important but struggling to stay alive.” He turned the page, and image of a smiling woman in a long gown greeted them. “That’s my mother.”

Shane pulled the album closer so he could see. She smiled as though she were laughing mid portrait, looking past the camera and someone else in the room. The silk gown draped over her elegant form, wrapping around her like a light embrace. 

The photo facing his mother was a stony faced portrait for Ryan’s mother and father, holding a newborn child in an intricate christening gown. His father was decorated with military regalia and an intricate rapier, his mother dressed in a fine gown and a sash with several medals pinned to it. 

“I think that’s me when I was a baby. I can’t tell anything else from the photos, and all the inscriptions are in a language I can’t read. The rest of the pages are blank.

“You never did tell me what happened to her.” Shane said, looking back up at Ryan. 

Ryan looked like he was trying to remember a time so far back it might as well have been before he was born. All he could grasp at was a feeling and not a tangible memory, like when he heard a noise or smelled something familiar. Just enough sensation to register, but not enough to recall.

“I just… assumed she died of complications or swift illness. My father never told me.” 

“That doesn’t make you angry?” Shane asked. If he were in Ryan’s shoes, he’d have been furious had he found a secret photo album. It was no grand conspiracy between them, but it was obvious Ryan’s father was always hiding something, always on the cusp of saying something he didn’t want them to know. It was like he needed them to understand something but was doing more harm than good keeping that secret.

Ryan’s brows furrowed. 

“Yes… and no. It must be painful for him to remember her. Sometimes if he’s had too much brandy after supper, he’ll go on and on about how beautiful she was when she smiled, and how kind she was, and her quirky interests. How he felt when he heard her laugh. I supposed it’s probably for the best that I hear all the good things she brought into the world than the bad things that happened to her.”

“She sounds like she was just like you.” 

Ryan made a funny little face, the same face he made when he was flustered after a compliment. It was like he barely believed the words, let alone that someone had _ said _them to him. 

“No… I’m boring, and mousy and… Barely punctual. My father said she was fearless. And I’m… I'm a scared little boy that can’t even leave the gates of his house without a chaperone.” 

“What _ are you talking about? _” 

Ryan looked at Shane confused, and Shane huffed at him like he was being ridiculous. 

“Oh come on, really? You’re good at everything try, you’re always ready to learn, always ready to try something new. You give the weirdest looking albums a shot even though they’re not something I’d even glance at, and you know all kinds of things I’d never even think to wonder about. And you’re kind, you’re kind to me and everyone you meet. You’re just...”

_ Better. Better than me, better than everyone else. _ Shane didn’t say it aloud, but he felt it. He felt it so deeply in his bones it almost scared him.

“I don’t feel very adequate most of the time. I feel like I’m barely above water, but I have to keep swimming or I’m going to drown.”

Shane laughed humorlessly, that was a notion he’d never considered. He always felt somewhat overshadowed by Ryan; the older they got, the bigger the shadow became. He was so terrified that one day Ryan would leave him behind and not even think to look back.

“I understand… I feel like that sometimes too.”

Tears formed in Ryan’s eyes, he pulled his knees up to his face sniffled pathetically. “I’m always afraid that secretly, you can’t stand me.”

Shane dropped the album and scooted closer, trying to pull Ryan out of his self-made shell. “That’s absurd, you’re my best friend. Hey, come on now…” 

Ryan nodded and sniffed, wiping the tacky tears off his reddened cheeks. “I don’t want to complain. I have a lot to be grateful for but there is so much pressure on me to be perfect, to do everything, to learn as much as I can, and I don’t even know why. And I envy you for just… being able to exist as you are.”

“I guess the grass is always greener, huh?”

“Yeah…” Ryan nodded, thinking for a moment. Then he looked at Shane and smiled, his deep brown eyes were glassy from crying. “You’re my best friend, Shane. Probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, too.”

Ryan looked at him as if to ask “do you mean it?” But he didn’t have to. He could see it in the sincerity of Shane’s eyes, with his lopsided smile and wild hair. 

Shane did not think about his actions, he just moved without hesitation. He captured Ryan’s lips, kissing him softly, though without experience. Ryan squeaked quietly in surprised, but didn’t pull away. It wasn’t so much a kiss as it was resting their lips on each other, Shane tilting his head for a better angle before pulling away. 

Ryan blinked, and for a moment Shane felt anxious, guilt adding to the mixture as he realized he’d acted selfishly and without thought to consequence. The anxiety compounded, Ryan should push him away in disgust any at any second, walk away quietly and cooly ask him to leave. Ryan was too kind to throw someone under a bus, but he’d never look at Shane the same way again.

“I thought… I thought you liked some girl at your school.” Ryan’s soft, serene smile was like instant relief to the boiling cauldron of emotion in his body. 

“I made her up.” Shane whispered. Ryan just huffed in amusement and kissed him back, holding Shane’s head with his hands. 

They separated when they heard the bell for supper, scrambling to their feet to clamber back down the attic steps. Shane was too giddy to see the sad expression on Ryan’s face when Shane wasn’t looking. 

He saw Shane out the door before fixing himself and rushing to the dining room where he knew his father and uncle were waiting patiently for him. And as he walked, one thought continued to play in his head over and over. One sad truth to end all good feelings, and the truth was that good boys don’t kiss other boys. 

But fixation was already beginning to triumph over logic, and as Ryan took his place at the dining table, he banished the bad thoughts and focused on the good, just as his mother would have done. He thought of the next day, seeing Shane’s smile and knowing it was genuine, that it was meant for _ him. _

He could tell him “I love you” and see the smile grow warmer on Shane’s face, see his hazel eyes sparkle. He could kiss him again and know that they shared something special that no one else would have. He could hold his hand in the privacy of their rooms, do sappy things like dance to love songs on their records, and talk about all the things they’d do together when they grew up.

Ryan wouldn’t ever get the chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as per there Spencer Writing Model, _something's gonna happen._ Tags contain spoilers, but I'm no Russo Brothers so read them at your own risk. 
> 
> Honestly, writing this chapter was so fun and I should write wholesome more often. I just love the way they are *clenches fist* just so fucking precious. 
> 
> There are some songs that inspired some of the parts in this piece, they are as follows and in order:
> 
> 1\. Everyday - Buddy Holly  
2\. Calendar Girl - Neil Sedaka  
3\. Come Softly To Me - The Fleetwoods  
4\. Piano Sonata No. 8 in A Minor , K. 310: III. Presto - Mozart  
5\. Put Your Head On My Shoulder - Paul Anka  
6\. Teenager In Love - Dion & The Belmonts
> 
> _That being said, I hope you all liked it and kudos and comments are direly appreciated._


	3. Interlude - Vanishing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane Vanishes.

A day passed for Ryan to realize Shane had not come over like he usually had. 

Two days passed before Shane’s parents anxiously filed a missing persons report.

Two weeks passed and the police were no closer to solving his disappearance than they were any of the other stacks of unsolved disappearances. 

A month passed. Then two. Then three.

Shane didn’t turn up. A body was never found. The police had no leads, no breadcrumbs, no trails to follow. It was like he’d completely vanished from existence, leaving only memories and aching in his wake. They quietly shelved the case until a sighting was reported or any tips came in, but nothing happened. 

Ryan read the shakily written letter from Shane’s mother in his hands with trembling fingers. Tears slipped down his cheeks because he  _ knew, _ nothing could be done about the situation. 

He excused himself from his father’s presence, shut the door behind to his bedroom quietly. The room seemed still, darkened from the setting sun. The lack of extra presence sucked the warmth out of the atmosphere.

All the grief, worry, anxiety, and hopelessness he’d felt over the last few months mounted like too much tension in the earth and finally snapped inside of him, sending a surge of emotion through him like a tidal wave. 

Ryan fell to his knees at the foot of his bed, letter still clutched in his hand. He gasped aloud, like his lungs refused the oxygen in the air. He’d never felt such pain in his chest, such fierce pangs caused by grief in it’s undiluted form. He could have choked, it hurt so bad.

His heart broke, he felt it crack. It truly felt like he’d been ripped in half. 

Shane was gone, and that wasn’t a fact he could wrap his head around. The lack of tangibility was so foreign to him, he rejected it over and over until it remained the one true thing above all else.  _ Shane is gone. _

He cried aloud, tears flowing down his reddened cheek. What was he supposed to do, how was he to even begin to move on? His only true companionship had been violently pried from his hands, leaving him alone on his knees. 

He’d probably never see him again. He’d never see the lopsided smile on his face, the glimmer in his hazel eyes. He’d never hear one of Shane’s jokes at his own expense, they’d never catch a matinee together on a Saturday morning, or rifle through record bins at the book shop. 

No more walks in the park, or reading comic books together in secrecy, no more dancing to Buddy Holly while they laughed at each other’s lack of timing. 

He’d never be able to play the piano for him again. He’d never be able to read a story aloud to Shane as Shane developed photos they’d taken together, not because Shane didn’t like reading but simply because Shane liked the sound of his voice when he narrated. 

He’d never hear Shane’s voice again, the sound of it just one tick away from being deeper than his own. He’d never be able to hold Shane’s hands in his own again, to feel the calloused and soft parts of his fingers. He’d never be able to press another kiss upon Shane’s lips again, lips that were soft and thin, that trembled just slightly because he was nervous. 

There were so many ‘nevers’, and Ryan felt them all fall upon his shoulders like rocks on his chest. It was agony, the feeling inside him. Saturated anguish coursing through his veins.

_ Shane is gone. _ It was the most horrible set of words he’d ever thought to think, simply because they were true. 

He curled up on his floor and sobbed, too deep in despair to even sit up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feels bad man
> 
> idk dudes, i'm having a hard time writing these days.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been actually pretty stoked about posting this. 
> 
> I was watching The Crown with my parents and I was really inspired but the mood the directors set, the cinematography, the camera angles. But I also don't know shit about how governments work, so this fic is more about the emotions Ryan and Shane are feeling. How they deal with things. The decisions they make. How they deal with each other. It's a more a collection of snapshots than a story. 
> 
> I hope you all like it.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, and you can follow me on tumblr at HeavyMetalMothman or on twitter @hvymtlmothman


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